


let me romance with you

by LearaBribage



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables (TV 2000), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, It's that "soft epilogue" my dudes, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 08:00:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20422586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LearaBribage/pseuds/LearaBribage
Summary: Jehan Prouvaire and Grantaire discuss their relationship over a joint.





	let me romance with you

"Grantaire, did… did you just light your joint on my scented candle?"

Césaire Grantaire flipped the dark curls from his forehead, ignoring the thick-rimmed glasses falling on the bridge of his nose. A hand on his leather clad hips, he turned to his boyfriend with a nonchalant gaze and rolled his shoulders back. "Yeah, and what about it?"

Jehan Prouvaire pouted, his lower lip jutting out exaggeratedly as he strode towards him with a huff. His rainbow-socked feet made soft, poofy noises on the carpeted floor before he went around his boyfriend to blow the flame away on his candle. Grantaire followed his movements with a smirk on his face, the stick stubbornly resting between his lips.

Pivoting towards Grantaire, he crossed his arms over his yellow shirt and frowned at him. "I thought you said you'll lessen the weed, love?"

Grantaire tossed the joint away to the bin and snorted, leaning in to rub the bridge of his nose on his cheek before kissing it. "I did," he admitted, moving away and smiling when he saw Prouvaire's cheeks redden, "but I needed the relief to… you know, blow off steam. I had a shitload of exams today, covered Bossuet's shift at Corinthe, and hauled my ass over here for you."

Prouvaire rolled his grey eyes, his fingers curling on the ends of his auburn hair. "Fine," he said, sitting back on his bed, "I guess I can't always be the romantic one around here."

A burst of laughter erupted from Grantaire, and Jehan arched a brow. "What?"

"I'm not romantic?"

"Césaire, seducing me with debates over Robespierre's and Rasputin's respective dicking around during revolutionary periods may be effective, but I romance you with handwritten poetry and warmly cooked lunches!"

Grantaire breathed through his nose, and knelt down on the floor in front of him. Placing his hands on each side of Prouvaire's legs, Grantaire looked up at him.

"Hey," he said, using his deepest voice. His fingers rubbed Prouvaire's thighs gently. Jehan flicked his nose with the pad of his thumb.

"Hey yourself," he murmurred with a hint of annoyance though his voice was still soft. "I just. I have soft hands. You have soft lips. Let's be soft together, my love?"

Something about the way Jehan so easily could call him "my love" made Grantaire burn so sweetly inside. Rising up to him, he kissed his forehead and gently pushed Jehan down on the bed. All the world knows him for his spit-fire cynicisms. But only Jehan, only Jehan, can know him and make him feel like he swallowed stars when they kiss. His soul is too pure for this world, and so more than anyone, he deserved to be romanced.

"_Since I have seen you weep_," Grantaire began, his fingers tracing Jehan's sides. He nuzzled his nose against the waves of his auburn hair, and gasped softly. _How he lets me care for him as he cares for me, I do not know_, he thought when Prouvaire shuddered, his lids falling. "_And since I have seen you smile_."

Undoing the first three buttons of Jehan's shirt, he pressed his lips on his cheeks before planting one on the outline of Jehan's neck as he whispered, "_Your lips upon my lips; and your eyes upon my eyes_."

"_A ray, a single ray, of your star, veiled always_," he whispered, his voice deepening as Jehan moaned with his ministrations. Though Grantaire remembered reading this poem from one of Jehan's collections, he cannot recall every line, only the ones that he felt reminded him of Prouvaire. So he continued, caressing the span of his neck devotedly. "_Since I have felt the fall, upon my lifetime's stream_."

"_My heart has more fire_," he said, grasping Jehan's face, kissing him everywhere save his lips, "_than you can frost to chill_."

Prouvaire's eyes opened, and he thought his heart leapt out his chest when he saw how much he could say with just so little, with just his eyes when he held him just the same. But he powered through, finishing what he remembered to be the final line of the poem, "_My soul more love than you can make my soul forget_."

Jehan took his face into his hands and kissed him so fiercely, and Grantaire's eyes watered when Prouvaire straddled him. His fingers drifted to trace the outline of his spine when Jehan deepened the kiss, clutching him so tightly. He didn't know if Prouvaire wanted to go further, so he just let him take the lead now and enjoyed the way their mouths and bodies collided, so in sync even when there's no music to be heard.

They broke apart after a while, and Jehan placed his forehead against his. Arching a brow at the way his grey were now clouded and darker than before, Grantaire smirked. "You're not the only romantic one around here, yeah?"

Jehan could only nod at first, too satisfied and content as he laced his arms around his neck. "I didn't think you've read that particular poem," he said, bumping his nose against his. "It would probably amuse you to know that I was going to do the same thing you did."

"Aha, I got first dibs!" Grantaire laughed before bringing him closer to kiss him again. "But of course, for you, I would."

Jehan's lips curled fondly.

"I love you too."

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this because I've been wanting to write a drabble for these two, and cuckoo-outlawoflove-in-nirvana from Tumblr suggested the first line here as a prompt. ❤
> 
> \---
> 
> Title from Queen's song, "I Was Born To Love You." 
> 
> \---
> 
> The poem uttered by Grantaire is Victor Hugo's "More Than Time."


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